Dear Auntie Sue,
I live in a quiet, respectable cul-de-sac where nothing much happens, aside from the occasional passive-aggressive recycling dispute. But last week, horror of horrors, I discovered that my neighbour, let’s call him Nigel (because that’s his name) – supports a wealth tax.
He said it out loud, in public, at the residents’ AGM, right between the sausage rolls and the motion about repainting the communal post box.
Auntie Sue, I own three investment properties, a vintage Bentley, and enough crypto to sink a small yacht. I’ve worked hard for my money, mainly by inheriting it from my father, who made his fortune evicting people for sport in the 80s.
Now Nigel wants the government to “redistribute” wealth – i.e. steal my third conservatory and give it to someone called “the NHS”.
I’m terrified this wealth tax will pass and I’ll be forced to downgrade to just a holiday home in Turkey. What should I do? Should I pretend to be working class? Burn my shares? Move to the Isle of Man?
Yours tremblingly,
Jenna, Norden, 44
Dear Jenna,
Oh love. How brave of you to continue existing under such dire threat, a man once mentioned tax in front of your vol-au-vents and you’ve held on like a true survivor.
Let me be clear: having three homes, a Bentley, and a sack of Dogecoin doesn’t make you rich. It makes you middle class with an accountant.
As for Nigel, don’t worry. Supporting a wealth tax is a bit like joining a gym in January, everyone talks about it, no one actually follows through. By the time Parliament finishes consulting the Wealthy People’s Union (aka the Cabinet), they’ll conclude that taxing Amazon is too difficult and instead fine pensioners for owning toasters.
If things get worse, you could always move to Monaco or simply hide your fortune in NFTs shaped like garden furniture. That’s what Jacob Rees-Mogg does.
In the meantime, breathe deeply, hold your Fabergé egg close, remind people that Norden isn’t in Rochdale, and remember, wealth taxes don’t affect you if you loudly claim all your assets are “liquidated into Beanie Babies”.
Yours fiscally,
Auntie Sue
